Perception
by michiYUZUKI
Summary: Jack Dawson's memories are completely wiped out after the Titanic from hypothermia. He is reborn as Dominic "Dom" Cobb, and has a completely different outlook on life than before the 1912 disaster.
1. I

**CHAPTER ONE: THE AWAKENING  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the movies _Titanic_ or _Inception._ The credit goes to the wonderful James Cameron and Christopher Nolan.**

A young man, the age of 21, woke up in the _Carpathia _infirmary from a deep sleep. His eyes stared blankly at the young doctor who was hovered over his bed, along with a nurse. However, the doctor was not looking at the young man; instead, he was speaking to the nurse, who was listening with rapt attention and also not looking at the young man.

"Hypothermia," the doctor said, a middle-aged man with dark brown hair and light green eyes, and a stylish haircut of the time, donning a white doctor's uniform and holding a clipboard. "He has hypothermia," the doctor repeated. "Make sure you give him the correct dose of medicine every two hours when he awakens."

The nurse nodded at the doctors words, and turned to look at the young man as the doctor began to walk away. Her eyes widened as she saw the man's eyes look at her blankly. "Oh!" she gasped. "Doctor Jones!" The doctor named Dr. Jones turned around and saw the man's eyes, wide opened.

"Well then," Dr. Jones said. "I guess it's time to feed him the medicine. Many of the patients hate it, so you might expect some gagging to occur. Remember, Amber, what you're supposed to do in the case of hypothermia."

The nurse named Amber nodded in response, and the doctor went on to the next patient. She hummed a melody, a cheerful one, as she went to a nearby cabinet and grabbed a spoon and a pink container. The man watched, his blue eyes following Amber's every move as she shuffled back to the man with the objects. "I will need to give you this every two hours," Amber said, even though the young man had been there when the doctor said this.

Seeing the dirty-blonde man make no response, she took it that he did not want to talk, and shut her mouth. Amber poured the thick, dark liquid into the spoon, and stated, "Open up." The patient did not respond. Exasperated, Amber repeated herself. "Open your mouth." No response. Looking at the man sternly, she pried his mouth opened, and dumped the liquid into it.

The man immediately gagged, but the nurse saw this, and held the patient's mouth closed. The man was forced to swallow the disgusting liquid, but he whined like a child, and continued to gag.

Nurse Amber went to the sink, grabbed the cup that was shared by all patients, and poured water into it. As she did, she looked back at the young man with unhidden disgust. "You're worse than an infant," she frowned, and, seeing that the cup was filled up, made her way back to the patient's bed.

"Here's some water," the nurse said, and tried prying the man's mouth open again, but, the man, not knowing what water was, clamped his mouth shut.

"Crap," she murmured under her breath. Using all her strength, she pried the mouth opened and dumped the water in, then pulled her hand out of the way as the man tried clamping his mouth shut. She covered his mouth when it was closed, and the young man swallowed, immediately lavishing the cool water that removed the taste of the disgusting medicine.

"Tsk, tsk tsk," Nurse Amber said, her amber (yes, amber) curly hair rolling down her back, her hazel eyes staring at the patient with a worried, yet disgusted, look. "What is wrong with you?"

Not waiting for the young patient to answer, she walked away from his bed to check on another ill person.

When Nurse Amber said that the young man was worse than an infant, she was almost correct. Because Jack Dawson had lost all living memory after the sinking of the _Titanic._

* * *

**A/N: EXTREMELY EXTREMELY short chapter, obviously. The second chapter will be longer- I promise. It's in the works right now, but, for now, this is all this fan fic has. It originally was going to be a prologue, but it got too detailed, and I decided to make it chapter 1. This is my first fan fiction, so please R&R, and no flames. **


	2. II

**CHAPTER TWO: THE VISITOR**

It had been a few weeks since Jack Dawson had boarded the _Carpathia_. The _Carpathia _had since docked, and Jack had been moved from the ship's infirmary to a nearby make-shift volunteer hospital, which was made shortly after _Titanic_'s sinking to aid patients who were too poor to be able to pay for a hospital stay. Since Jack was wearing steerage clothing, and because nobody knew his name (Dr. Jones and Nurse Amber had attempted, but failed, to get his title), Jack was in the tent. It was more unsanitary than a hospital, but the volunteers at the shelter claimed they tried to make sure all patients were healed.

Jack was laying on one of the cots, with a light blanket covering him. He was staring blankly at the top of the tent. Jack was used to the routine now: a volunteer would check on him, give him some disgusting medicine, then leave him for a long time (four hours, to be exact, which made Jack happy that the time had been extended). Jack was left to stare around with childish curiosity. When he was hungry or thirsty, he would start making annoyed noises (alas, he did not cry) until a nurse gave him a bowl of soup or some other warm food. The hospital volunteers whispered about Jack, exchanged pitying stares when tending to him. The helpers had decided that Jack had mental problems, as he could not speak, and made noises like a baby. This caused people to hush when they went to his area of the cot. Jack didn't care though; he liked the peace and quiet, and was left alone to wander his eyes wherever he pleased.

It was on this particular day that the volunteers were acting oddly- or, at least, odder than usual. They had taken Jack out of his cot (with great difficulty) and had taken him out to an area outside of the tent where no one could see him. The volunteers tending to him had stripped off his clothing, and proceeded to pour cold water on him and rub him vigorously with soap. Jack had tried to run away, but he was immediately caught, and, eventually, he stopped struggling, but continued to shiver from the cold water. Jack had been changed into a donated set of clothes (used, but warm) after the shower, and he was sent back to his cot. All the salt water in his hair had been cleansed off, but Jack was not content, as he was _cold._ But, Jack, whose mind was like the innocent one of a child's, forgave, and quickly forgot.

However, Jack's short memory span still noticed the abnormality of the hustling and bustling of the nurses. He was becoming somewhat annoyed by the lack of peace, and he was close to having a "temper tantrum," which was when he held his breath for as long as possible until a volunteer noticed this and made him breathe again. Thankfully, Jack soon figured out why the volunteers were so jumpy that day—Jack was receiving his first visitor. Normally first visitors weren't a big deal, but this visitor was _very_ well dressed, and people assumed that he was going to say something important to their mentally challenged patient. In fact, this visitor was one of the higher middle-class people, and was known to teach many fine men. Perhaps this man could heal Jack's brain, people thought, and so everyone decided that they had to make a good impression on the man.

At last, the time came when the visitor who had caused Jack so much trouble arrived. He indeed was a well-dressed person, wearing a three-piece suit, and looking like a first-class adult. The only thing that separated him from the highest class was the good natured expression on his face. He did not look haughty and arrogant, but instead made everyone his equal. He politely greeted everyone with a smile, and the way he held himself made everyone like him immediately. That is, except Jack. Jack noticed that this man was usually not in the hospital tent, and was immediately suspicious. Was _he _the one who caused Jack so much trouble? Jack stared at the visitor, his eyes starting from the visitor's combed, graying hair to his friendly hazel eyes, down from his well shaven face, to his suit, and all the way to the tips of the visitor's polished shoes. The visitor noticed Jack looking at him, and allowed this. He was used to people sizing him up (actually, the volunteers did too), and he had started to become apathetic of this.

The visitor, it seemed, took too long to get to Jack's cot. However, he was soon sitting at the side of the cot, and looked down at Jack, who was still in a laying position.

"Sit up, boy," a volunteer who looked more like a strict school-teacher than a nurse said sharply, trying to impress the visitor. The visitor, however, was not, and frowned, his eyes not once off Jack's face. "No," he said, his voice low, a hint of his annoyance heard. "He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to."

The volunteer immediately blushed and walked out, her high heels click-clacking on the ground. She gestured the rest of the nurses to follow her, and, one by one, they filed out of the tent until it was just Jack and the visitor.

"So," the visitor stated, his smile coming back. "You're the boy who doesn't have a name." No answer. "Everyone's talking about you around here, you know. They say they can't get you to talk—many assume it's from the trauma from the, ah... sinking. Is that correct?" Still no reply. The visitor coughed slightly, then continued. "I can see that, from all that they're talking about. Maybe I could help you a bit. But, I don't want to call you 'boy,' so I need to know your name." Jack blinked once, twice, and looked down to the blanket that was covering him. "Dom," he murmured. It was actually a random noise that escaped his lips, but the visitor took this as his name. "Dom, I see. My name's Stephen Miles, but you can just call me by my last name; most people do. I think that it's not the trauma of it all that's causing you not to speak. In my opinion, I think that you have lost all your memory to the hyperthermia you have. At least, I guess that's a valid reason. Either way, I'm here to teach you, teach you something that's very secretive, that most people don't know. But first, you need to gain your memory back again, and I'm here to help you.

"Unfortunately, these volunteers that are eavesdropping on us will probably spread gossip." At this, a lot of scuffling and giggling could be heard, and Miles sighed. "Just as I expected." Miles paused for a moment as he listened to the volunteers arguing in hushed voices.

"I think we should go out for a walk," Miles said to Jack abruptly, before getting up from his seat and moving his way towards the tent flap. Jack sat up in his bed as he watched the man talk to the school-teacher volunteer, before he too, without permission, got up himself, and began walking towards Miles. The volunteer and the visitor noticed this, and, while Miles smiled in surprise that Jack could walk, the volunteer said coldly, "Go back to bed, boy!" Jack was taken aback, and was about to make his way to the cot again, when Miles stopped him. "Why do you people insist on calling this fine young man 'boy?'" he asked the volunteer cautiously, the smile he had directed to Jack gone.

"He refuses to tell us his name," the volunteer replied defiantly.

"And yet, you think it's okay to be rude to this young man and call him 'boy?' There is a more polite name you know," Miles stated. "And, his name is Dom."

"Dom...?" the volunteer asked, ignoring Miles' previous statement, and trying to get a last name.

"A surname doesn't matter right now," Miles replied softly. "Now, if you would excuse us, Dom and I would like to take a walk."

"But the boy—_Dom_ is not well enough to take a walk."

"And yet you douse him with cold water."

"There was no choice!"

"Of course there wasn't."

"He still has a fever!"

Miles felt Jack's forehead.

"Actually, I'm afraid Dom doesn't. And because he's well enough-"

"He is _not _well enough!" the volunteer interjected, her voice exasperated. "We should know! We're trained professionals!"

"It's been what? Six weeks since he arrived? The doctor showed me the date he came to this, ah... _hospital_, andthe temperature of his forehead of every checkup, _and even told me that he was fit to leave, as long as a found a place to stay._ And let me assure you, I have a place for him to stay."

The volunteer had nothing to say at this, and proceeded to glare at Miles and Jack, who had been moving his blonde head back and forth from the nurse to Miles as they argued.

"Fine," the volunteer finally said, her voice smooth, yet cold. "I'll get the release forms for you to sign, as I'm sure Dom's incapable of signing his own name." The nurse sneered, and left the tent, only to return to give the forms, and hurried out. She disliked this visitor now, even though he was charming and polite.

"Well, this became a walk to a gateway out of this place," Miles stated to Jack, who was standing next to him, his donated third-class clothes all raggedy from tossing and turning in his cot. Miles walked over to the small table next to Jack's makeshift "bed" and began to fill out the forms.

Miles and Jack walked down the street, away from the "hospital," towards Miles' apartment. Miles was talking animatedly, even though he knew Jack would not understand him. Jack had his hands in his pockets, and appeared to be paying attention intently to Miles in the eyes of passing people, even though in reality, it wasn't true. However, it helped with the guise that Jack was normal, and Miles didn't object to this.

Eventually, they made it to Miles apartment suite, and, Miles, taking out the key out of his trouser pocket, placed it in the keyhole and turned. The door opened with a satisfying click, and Jack and Miles entered.

"You will be staying in that room over there," Miles said like a guide, pointing to the first room the twosome passed. It had a bed that looked much more comfortable than the cots at the tents, and it was already ready to sleep on. There was a small table next to it, and a wooden dresser on the side. The desk was next to the dresser, already ready with pencils and paper, which immediately made Jack happy, although he did not know why. The room was clean and not too small either. It was not like a prison shack or anything, as the room wasn't square or completely white. It was actually warm and welcoming, and, unconsciously, Jack decided it wasn't as bad as other places he'd seen before; there weren't any rats.

Miles pointed out the small kitchen and eating area, his own room, and a living room, where another man was sitting on the couch.

"Mr. France," Miles nodded towards the sitting man, who had short, slicked back brown hair, and was, like Miles, wearing a suit. "This is Dom." Miles proceeded to nod towards Jack, who looked at Mr. France, then at the white box that was sitting on the coffee table. However, when Miles spoke once more, Jack looked back at his once-visitor. "Mr. France will be guiding you through our, ah, journey, while I will be giving the kick. I'm not going to say anymore; it's up to you to figure out. Normally I would give a detailed description of what's going to happen, but we'll leave it until afterwards for special purposes." Miles was not as good-natured as when he was at the hospital; he was all business now—no more easy-going attitude now.

"Just sit down on the couch and we'll be all set." With that, Miles directed Jack to the couch next to Mr. France's. Sitting down, Jack leaned back and relaxed a bit. He heard France and Miles talk, but he ignored it, and closed his eyes...

**A/N: Sorry for the delay... I've been busy with school.**

**Anyways... Yay! Better chapter! A whole lot longer too, obviously (2094 words, to be exact). The chapter's sort of slow and boring, I know, but the next one will get a bit interesting, a promise. There won't be as much action yet, unfortunately, but its coming. You probably can guess what the next chapter's about anyways. ;) Reviews are my cookies... they make me happy. :D**


End file.
